


a state in which all other outcomes are impossible

by avosettas



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - xxxHoLic Fusion, Body Horror, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: “So!” The last man is still grinning wildly, especially at how Lydia jumps. “B-word’s the name,do not wear it out, seriously, I can and will kill you. Now….” He almost purrs, and Lydia backs into the pair who dragged her into the room, who suddenly seem more human.“You got a wish, babes?” His breath is rancid.“I came in here by mistake,” Lydia replies testily, straightening her back.
Kudos: 22





	a state in which all other outcomes are impossible

**Author's Note:**

> been on a CLAMP kick, here is some Bull Shit in which beej is yuuko ichihara and i am half asleep.  
> tjank u SoloChaos for letting me yell abt this at u even though u know nothing abt xxxholic
> 
> come talk to me @asriells on tumblr
> 
> (note: i usually spell beetlejuice as "betelgeuse", like the star, but this fic is in lydia's pov, so it's spelled NOT like the star)

Sometimes, if she ignores them, they’ll go away. 

That is definitely _not_ the case with today’s spirit. When Lydia had glanced backward she had gotten an eyeful of yellow - so many of the ghosts around here were dead fisherman. 

Stereotypical yellow hat, raincoat, and rain boots. Usually a long, unkempt beard.  
...A lot of times, a voice choked by rotting seaweed and empty, white eyes, but it wasn’t really the norm. 

Usually, she walks slowly home after school - better to avoid her stepmother. Today, she’s nearly running, because for some reason the ghost of this particular fisherman is angry. 

When she rounds the corner to downtown, Lydia sticks a hand out to lean on a fence. Suddenly, she’s on the ground, and it feels like she’s being dragged inside the property. She grabs one of the posts of the gate she’d held on to -

The fisherman is gone, she notices as she stares frantically out at the street, feet scrabbling for purchase against the tall grass of the property’s lawn. But also, _she can’t control her damn feet_!

Lydia stands, almost against her will, and turns away from the street. The house on the property is a large ranch, set back from the street, its porch hidden from view by the tall grass of the lawn. She stands, and breaths slowly, in and out like her therapist taught her, to calm herself down. 

Then her feet start moving towards the open door without her permission. 

She’s nearly inside when they stop, and she falls face-first into the house. It’s dusty, and she starts coughing as she raises her head. 

“Sorry,” says a voice somewhere to her left. “The wards really got you, I guess!” It’s a cheerful voice - a woman’s. 

Lydia turns and nearly screams. She’s used to macabre things - her favorite pastime is watching horror movies and true crime shows, but the woman beside her is bruised beyond belief. Part of her skull seems to have caved in at some point, and her neck is bent at an unnatural angle. A hand is holding her head up. 

...A third hand, sprouting from her back, because she has both of her hands on Lydia’s shoulder, helping her steady herself. The woman’s back is also bent funny. 

And then Lydia realizes her feet are _backwards_ and she backs up, eyes wide. Backs up into something freezing, but faintly solid, like snow.  
She turns and jumps back towards the woman. Behind her, apparently silent, was a man with similar injuries to the woman, but at least his body seemed normal below the neck. Lydia looks at his feet to confirm - his toes are pointing the correct way. 

“I - I’m sorry,” Lydia says shakily once she’s regained her breath. “I’m going to leave now.” 

“If the wards let you in,” says the woman. 

“ - it means you have a reason for coming here,” finishes the man. 

Before Lydia can respond she’s being dragged through the house by the pair. The woman walks slower, with her backwards feet, but it’s still quick enough that Lydia’s head spins. 

“We have a guest,” jeers the woman when they stop. Actually, she says a name first - something with a “b”, it sounds familiar, but when she says it the sounds grate against Lydia’s ears. 

The pair let her go, and Lydia falls forward into another man. He’s freezing, just like the first, but definitely more solid, with a sharp grin and a smell like rotten eggs. 

Lydia would be afraid of him, except he’s wearing about three different patterns of vertical black and white stripes, sewn badly in several obvious places. 

“Sorry,” Lydia says again, hoping this weirdo will be more amenable to her apologies. “I kind of fell into your yard and then they dragged me in.” 

He lets her go, but Lydia hears the door close. A business card finds its way into her hand. 

The only words on it are BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE, with a crude drawing of a beetle done in what seems to be magic marker next to it. 

“Read it,” says the woman, somewhere behind her, but also inexplicably close to her left ear. 

“Why should I?” Lydia replies, wheeling on them, suddenly feeling brave. 

“You have a reason to be here.” The first man says. Then he says something else, something that grates on Lydia’s ears again. “ - can’t help you unless you say his name.” He smiles, almost sheepishly, as Lydia turns back around

Lydia’s played with ouija boards in her house before, so staring at the odd man who somehow weaseled his card into her hand, she’s at least glad whatever she’ll be summoning will - probably, hopefully - be stuck in this shitty house. 

“Beetlejuice,” The man grins wider, if it’s even possible. His green hair takes on a brighter tone, something radioactive. 

The most frightening part is how wild his eyes are. But Lydia’s carried salt since she was nine, so she says the words twice more, quick like ripping off a bandage. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.” 

Whatever happens next is inexplicable. Smoke bursts from the man, but not much about him changes. On the other hand, when she turns to make sure the pair behind her aren’t about to try anything funny, she realizes that whatever was wrong with them… is gone. 

The woman’s feet are facing the correct way, her third arm is missing, and her skull is no longer caved in. The man’s glasses are fixed, and his bruises are gone. 

“So!” The last man is still grinning wildly, especially at how Lydia jumps. “B-word’s the name, _do not wear it out_ , seriously, I can and will kill you. Now….” He almost purrs, and Lydia backs into the pair who dragged her into the room, who suddenly seem more human. 

“You got a wish, babes?” His breath is rancid. 

“I came in here by mistake,” Lydia replies testily, straightening her back. 

Beetlejuice laughs, a raucous crowing noise not unlike a cat yowling. “No mistakes. No coincidences, not ‘round here, sweet thing. You coming in here was fate, destiny!” 

“Fate?” 

“‘The development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power,’” supplies the man behind her. “According to the Oxford dictionary.” 

“Adam. Dude. I’m sure she knows what fate _is_ ,” Beetlejuice grunts testily. “Look, sweetcheeks,” he says, talking to Lydia now. “You came in here because you had a wish. _I_ can grant that wish. For a price.” 

“Itty bitty price,” says the woman behind her to Adam in a fake southern drawl.

“More of a favor, really,” Adam replies. 

“Oh my god, will you two let that go?!” Beetlejuice pulls Lydia close to him, then turns her around and rests his hands on her shoulder. “This is Sexy and Babs, by the way. They hang out here because they haven’t got anything better to do.” 

“Adam and Barbara,” the woman corrects, motioning between herself and her partner. “Also, we keep the store and Beej connected to the mortal plane.” This last bit is said with a meaningful frown at Beetlejuice. 

“Okay, yeah, they do that.” Beetlejuice grumbles. “Anyway, kid,” he twirls her around again. Lydia sways dizzily in his grasp. “You got a wish, I got your price.” 

“I don’t have a wish,” Lydia replies, shrugging his hands off her. 

“Bullshit.” Beetlejuice rolls his eyes, and adopts a perfect imitation of her voice. “ _I wish these damn ghosts would leave me alone! Why am I the only one they bother? Why am I the only one who can_ see _them?!_ ” 

“...Fine, okay, the ghosts piss me off. The fuck are you gonna do about it?” Lydia mutters, not meeting his eyes. 

“Wow, you’re dumber than I thought,” Beetlejuice laughs. Before she can answer, he continues, “Literally all three of us are dead, babes. We know your ghosties better than anyone, except maybe the last people they fucked.” 

“Ew.” 

“So we know what we’re doing!” Beetlejuice crows, grabbing Adam and Barbara in a bearhug. 

“Er,” Adam says, squished in Beetlejuice’s arms. “ _He_ knows what he’s doing. We just keep him out of trouble.” 

“Fine,” Lydia says finally, as Beetlejuice releases Adam and Barbara. “What’s your price?” 

Beetlejuice grins wickedly. “You,” he says deviously, “are going to work for us! Y’know, errands, cleaning, that sorta shit. And when you’ve paid it off, I’ll get rid of your ghosties!”

“ _What?_ ” Lydia shrieks. 

“Big wish. Big price. Can you fix the fence, kids keep getting in.” And then he pushes Lydia, Adam, and Barbara out, before slamming the door in their faces. Barbara smiles placidly at her. 

Lydia closes her eyes, and sighs heavily.


End file.
